Hell of a Reunion
by damnitjillkatherine
Summary: Dean's first night back from Hell. Wincest.


**Reunion  
><strong>Disclaimer: Not mine. If only...  
>Rating: NC-17<br>Summary: Dean's first night back from Hell. Wincest.

* * *

><p>"So, are you two like, to-gether…?"<p>

"What? _No, _no! He's my brother."

Ruby had never heard so much emotion poured into three words, not even the times she'd been inhabiting someone on the receiving end of 'I love you.' Adoration, sadness, love, anger, worship, relief, anguish, guilt, all of it. Nothing had ever come close. She was playing the game - she remembered Dean, of course - but the force of Sam's reply had genuinely surprised her.

_He's my brother._

Ruby also remembered the nights she'd heard Sam cry out a name in his sleep, and the nights he'd cried out that same name while they fucked in the dark: _Dean. _She hadn't pressed him about it - Dean was dead, after all - but now…

_He's my brother. _

"Look, I should probably…go." she pointed towards the door. Only the Winchesters could make a damn _demon _feel uncomfortable.

…

That night, as the boys drove towards Pamela's house, Sam drifted off to sleep in the Impala's passenger seat. He was more comfortable than he'd been in months. He was still afraid that his brother would disappear at a moment's notice, but the rumble of the Chevy's engine and Dean's faint off-key singing created a familiar lullaby that he was powerless to resist. It wasn't long, though, before the nightmares snuck in, flashing images of his brother being torn apart by hellhounds, blood everywhere, over and over and over again.

"Dean!"

Dean swerved in surprise, nearly taking out a Prius in the oncoming lane. He swore and eased the car onto the shoulder.

"What the hell, man? I thought you were asleep!"

"I was, but I-" Sam mumbled and looked down.

"You what?"

"I had a nightmare! About…" he trailed off again, eyes still downcast.

"About me?" Dean pressed.

"Yes, about you! What else? About you dying in my arms and about four months of miserable life without you and me not being able to _do _anything about it!" Sam looked up now, tears staining his face. "Dean, I've never felt so lost."

"Ah, jeez." Dean got out of the car. For a horrible four seconds, Sam thought he was gone again, but then his own door opened and Dean hauled him to his feet. "C'mere, you big girl." Sam wrapped his arms around his brother, unable to stop the hiccupping sobs tearing their way out of his chest as the crushed Dean into the hug he wouldn't allow himself in front of Bobby and Ruby. Dean squeezed hard in return, blinking back his own tears, rubbing Sam's back and making nonsense soothing noises like he'd done when his brother was a baby.

"Missed you," Sam said into Dean's shoulder. Eventually, the sobs subsided, and the younger Winchester began to breath normally. Standing there with Dean's arms still around him, tracing small circles on his lower back, certain parts of Sam's body began to remind him just how much they, too, had missed the other man. Sam pulled back a little, not quite letting go, and Dean never could figure out how, with his height, his not-so-little brother could still manage to look _up _through his eyelashes at him when he wanted something. Something very specific. Dean gulped.

"Sam," he warned as he felt giant hands sliding down his spine.

"_Dean_," Sam's voice was completely wrecked, more desperate and wanting than he'd ever heard it, and the way it cracked went straight to Dean's groin.

"Sammy, I thought we weren't doing this anymore," Dean protested weakly. Sam pressed his forehead against his brother's, tears still welling in his eyes.

"Please, Dean. I missed you so much," Sam whispered, not trusting his voice anymore. Dean let out the resigned sigh that always meant his little brother had just won. Sometimes, there was just no fighting him.

Sam let out a strangled sound of triumph and pushed Dean up against the side of the Impala, mashing their lips together with enough force to bruise. Dean tasted the same as he always had, with the addition of some spice he couldn't name, perhaps a holdover from Hell. As Sam explored the other man's mouth, Dean struggled to keep up. He'd forgotten how forceful his gigantic little brother could be. He winced as Sam pulled him close and then slammed him back against the car again.

"Hey! Easy on the paint job, Sasquatch!" Sam withdrew and tried to look apologetic, but he was breathing heavy and his pupils were blown wide with lust. The sight made Dean's cock twitch. "Get in the back," he growled.

Sam's face lit up like a kid's at Christmas, and he scrambled to yank the back door open and clamber in. It was a tight fit these days with all of his long limbs, but the cramp in his neck was soon forgotten as he watched Dean toss his jacket and both his shirts on the floorboards and climb in after him. Sam struggled to get his own shirts off as Dean pulled the door closed and eyed him appraisingly. The younger man had apparently done nothing but hunt and work out while his brother was in Hell, and the results were noticeable.

Sam squirmed with excitement. They hadn't fooled around in the backseat of the Impala since he was sixteen and still flexible enough to bend his legs back over his head while Dean popped his cherry. After that, car sex had either been road head or a quick hand job in the front seat. They'd never managed to make it into the back. Now, they were grinding against one another like they were teenagers again. Sam had one hand wrapped around the handle above the door and the other down the back of Dean's pants. Dean wrenched both of their zippers open with the hand that wasn't propping himself up. Once he managed to work their cocks free to slide against each other, he grabbed the back of the driver's seat and began rolling his hips as slowly as he could stand to.

"Ah, _Dean,_" Sam keened. Dean leaned down to capture his brother's mouth in another searing kiss. The movement of his hips became more erratic as Sam's hand worked its way further down his jeans, grasping his ass.

"Jesus, Sammy, you're gonna leave marks." Sam bit Dean's lower lip, hard enough to draw blood.

"Good," he gasped, thrusting upwards to meet Dean's motions. "I hope I leave marks on that brand new ass of yours, and I hope I leave bruises, so that every time you see them and every time you sit down you remember that you are _mine,_" he bucked his hips sharply for emphasis, "and you have to come back to _me,_" again, "and you are not allowed to _leave._" Dean's eyes rolled back in his head.

"Fuck. Always did have a dirty mouth."

"Not. Allowed. To _leave,_" panted Sam, punctuating each word with another roll of his hips. "Mine, mine, _mine._" Sam let go of the handle, buried his long fingers in Dean's short hair, and pulled back sharply with the last _mine. _Dean cried out and spilled all over Sam's chest and stomach. The warm sensation and the sight of his brother coming undone pushed Sam over the edge as well, his come mixing with Dean's on his own flushed skin.

"Jesus Christ," exhaled Dean, somehow managing to collapse in a heap while still avoiding the mess. "When did you become such a kinky bastard?" Sam laughed briefly, then turned solemn.

"I mean it, Dean. You die again, I'll kill you."

"Yeah, 'cuz that makes _so _much sense," said Dean, rolling his eyes. He looked at his brother. "Oh, no. I swear to God, Samantha, you start crying on me again, I will leave you on the side of the road here. We're done with the chick flick moments." Sam huffed, reaching for something to clean off with.

"Fine. Jerk."

"Bitch."


End file.
